


Oh, We Talk With Our Hands, and they Move Like Music

by Des98



Series: Less Heard, More Felt [2]
Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Because I'm not done torturing him yet, Deaf Harry Potter, Drarry, Drarry till I fucking die okay?!, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Musician Harry Potter, Past Mentions of Abuse, Side Works I'm doing because I have writer's block for my main fic, Snape Lives, The Dursleys are complete shit, okay, so yeahhhhhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-04 04:50:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13356858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Des98/pseuds/Des98
Summary: Just a little mindless (slightly steamy) fluff at the breakfast table.  Sequel to The Melody of Silence





	Oh, We Talk With Our Hands, and they Move Like Music

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JessicaAuburn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessicaAuburn/gifts).



> Sequel to The Melody of Silence. Still Working on my longer fic, but I've got a bit of writer's block for it, so yeah. Anyway, I love the Deaf!Harry trope, and I know I'm not the only one. Also, if you enjoy, please leave kudos and maybe a comment. I'm a thirsty hoe. Gifted to my best friend because I love her and she is bae, and also because she deserves to be showered in nice gifts but all I can give her is fanfiction and virtual kisses, so I'm doing what I can.

     Harry Potter wasn’t going to lie and say that he had come completely to terms with his deafness, although he would willingly admit that he was happy with his life the way it turned out. As cliché as it was, every dark cloud had a silver lining, although it would be more accurate in this case to say a _smutty_ lining, as Harry and Draco traded positively filthy foreplay across the breakfast table in British Sign Language one lazy Saturday morning. Luckily, Hermione was in the library, Ron had never gotten the hang of sign language, although he’d tried diligently for his best friend. Besides, it wasn’t as if Harry couldn’t speak perfectly well, as the Dursley’s certainly hadn’t made any concessions for his deafness despite it being caused by their neglect. And although his best friend was totally okay with his relationship with Draco (the eighth years shared a dorm after all, and Ron and Blaise had actually formed a pretty close friendship over endless nightly chess matches), Harry highly doubted he’d be pleased to understand what their hands were rapidly saying to each other.

     The two lovebirds were so absorbed in their conversation that they didn’t realize when Hermione unexpectedly came back from the library (they hadn’t thought they’d see her again until lunch, not when she got excited about independent research). The same luxury of ignorance was not afforded to Hermione as she blushed red and smacked both boys upside the head.

     “Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy! You should not be using that kind of language at the breakfast table!” She meant to say it quietly, but in her embarrassment at catching such a conversation, she’d said it loudly enough that the entire table could hear. Pansy, who was sitting with them along with the rest of the eighth years of various houses, smirked at the thought of what her poor, Potter-obsessed best friend must have been thinking before they were interrupted. She was quite fond of Hermione, and, well, suffice to say she thought it unfortunate that she and the Weasel were on such stable footing in their relationship, as she and her girlfriends Susan Bones and Millicent Bullstrode would have happily found a place for her in their bed. But she was getting off-track, she thought as she pulled her attention back to the scene in the great hall.

     It seems that dear old professor Snape had decided to subtly cast a translation spell on the conversation, the look on his face saying he wished that they hadn’t been quite so fast to administer the antidote to Nagini’s venom. The look on McGonagall’s face betrayed that she, while not intruding on her students’ privacy, had a pretty good idea of what Harry and Draco were talking about and thought that Severus’ horrified reaction served him right for eavesdropping. Harry and Draco, not embarrassed at being caught out in the least (ah, how being in love seems to make everything else insignificant by comparison) had merely gone back to talking with their hands, although of less… _raunchy_ topics.

    _You’re saying that muggles have **really** invented this… recording device that could let me hear your music **whenever** I want, even in the middle of the night?_ Draco’s face was alight at the thought of being able to hear Harry’s beautiful voice and piano playing anytime he liked, without having to incessantly beg his boyfriend to sing the song again.

    _Yes, Dragon_ \- Harry had thought about what to give Draco as a name sign, before finally deciding that the standard word for Dragon was already perfect for him- _although I keep telling you that we also have the radio and CD players, so you could listen to the songs by the **real** artists._

    _But I don’t **want** to hear anyone else sing to me, not ever again. The Beatles or this Elton Jen man cannot possibly be as good as you._ Harry took a moment to be scandalized that his boyfriend could not for the life of him get the name of his musical idol right before replying.

    _It’s Elton **John,** Draco, and how could you possibly know if you don’t listen to the original? Why would I listen to the original when you are so much better?_

    _You haven’t actually **heard** the song since you were five, I think your estimation of Ethan’s skills are tinted by childhood idealism._ Normally, having the fact that he hadn’t been able to hear for thirteen years thrown in his face bothered Harry immensely, but he somehow just couldn’t gather any ire when it was his Slytherin who did it, especially because he was using it as a justification that Harry was, in his words ‘the most talented musician in all the world, and you know I don’t praise lightly, Potter.’

    _Fine, fine. Once we go back to my place for Christmas, I’ll burn a CD of me playing all your favorite songs so you’ll never have to listen to another ‘inferior performance’ again, you demanding git._

      _I may be a demanding git, but I’m your demanding git._ The blonde cast his eyes quickly around to make sure Hermione wasn’t looking, then- _sex behind the quidditch pitch?_

      _Sex behind the quidditch pitch,_ Harry agreed, as he grabbed Draco’s hands and they slipped quietly out of the Great Hall.


End file.
